Breaking Chains
by MsBBSue
Summary: He lives his life not in the vain of his country's destruction, but in his country's honor. There is no blue in his blood for it lacks the luster of royalty—but that does not make him inadequate for the job he was born for, if anything it makes his prominence stronger. AU (No real universe really)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes. **

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**Prelude:**

He lives his life not in the vain of his country's destruction, but in his country's honor. There is no blue in his blood for it lacks the luster of royalty—but that does not make him inadequate for the job he was born for, if anything it makes his prominence stronger. His village was one of the last to be touched by the filthy hands of a being known as Ghirahim Meikka; man of no home, Lord of Slaves, and with only enough loyalty to stay true to himself and his master.

The attack would not happen during the early hours of morning, as some may presume, but nor would it happen in the late hours of twilight where the sun would be at their advantage. The villains much preferred their victims to see them coming at full view, for it was not often men screamed at the sight of a woman who was neither his mother nor wife.

Ghirahim's Gerudos charge at full speed as soon as the sun hit its peak allowing the game to begin. Their form is beautiful and had it not been for the terror in that moment and the moments afterwards, perhaps the people of the village would have noticed. The women ride on black stallions, true to their native lands—such tall horses and as powerful as they were grand.

The women, of course, could be described just the same; as powerful as they were grand. Their hair is copper just as their skin and eyes as golden as the sun on a morning rise. Such rarity it was to have these beauties in this land that nearly all had believed the women to be legend. However, with the passing months and growth of attacks by these mythical beings, some began to believe the legend of the all-female tribe once again.

A terrifying thought, for these women were not known to take mercy. In legend, they were heartless, strong, and willful—not to mention, they cared a great deal less of men than the dirt under their nails. With the rise of the infamous Gerudos it not only confirmed their existence, but it also brought on a new nightmare, one which had been lived through hundreds of times before. One, in which, the outcome could be the difference of life as we know it and life as we _knew_ it.

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**Chapter One:**

Link holds his knife firmly and with short quick strokes begins to remove the red scales from the fish before him. He watches the little boy across from him try to do the same with a smaller fish. It is too small to make a good meal, but the boy's father, Rusl, wished for his son to learn the basics of cleaning a fish.

"Shorter strokes," Link whispers as Rusl props his fishing rod along the house. Colin furrows his brow with all the concentration a seven year old can muster and takes the advice.

"Short strokes with firm pressure, remember that Colin," Rusl calls as he picks up his bucket from the river and makes way to the boys. "Gentle, though," he adds as an after thought. "If you're too firm, you risk stabbing the fish." He lowers in a squat by his son and presses his forehead to the boy's. "And we don't want fish guts in our stew, now do we?"

"No, papa," Colin answers with a smile as he continues to scrape the scales. His eyes dart to Link and then back to the table as the older boy smirks.

"What does Uli plan to make with all these fish?" Link asks as he washes the bare fish in a pail of water and wipes his knife clean. As he reaches for a new fish, Rusl shrugs.

"I was planning to smoke them, but she said it would be best to have a bit of a feast for the village." He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Women; they'll be the death of you, boy—I swear it!"

Link smiles as he looks down at the new fish. "Truly, Uli is not that bad, Rusl."

"As opposed to what? A bear? A lion? Perhaps a feral cat—maybe even—," he takes a shaky breath and looks at Colin, "Sera?" Colin lets out a laugh and then silences after hearing a crash. The three of them stand for a moment unaware as to how to react—or even what they are hearing. Cries? Screaming? Both?

"Go to the ranch, boys," Rusl says as he stands after another crash.

Link quickly grips Colin by the hand. "What about Uli?"

"Don't you worry about her; I'll find her. Just get to where it's safe." Rusl turns his head to his son. "Stay with him, Colin, you hear?" Colin nods. Rusl grabs the older boy by the neck of his tunic. "Don't you let that one out of your site," he says nodding off to his son.

"I won't," Link says with shake of his head.

"Good," Rusl says and then gives them a push to get moving. "Like we practiced, boys; if you see a youngling running about alone, take them along."

"Aye," Link says.

Rusl waves a hand. "I don't want to hear you—I don't even want to see you. Just run and stay hidden until the storm passes."

Link tightens his grip on the boy's hand and bolts off in a flash, careful not to let Colin trip over his footing. With his heart pounding in his ears, Colin cannot hear what is going on. One minute he sees his house and the next he is running on a dirt path; his vision tunneled and almost vibrating with the excitement—from what, he does not know, yet he knows he should be scared.

"We're almost there," Link calls as they race up the hill. Colin turns his head over his shoulder for a look back, but Link stops him. "Remember what your father told us in practice? Keep looking ahead; _never_ look back."

As they get to the gates of the ranch, Link gives Colin a boost over. "Get to the barn and go in the crawlspace and keep quiet," he orders.

"What about you?" Colin asks, his one hand rising up to his chin.

"I'm going to look for others." Link looks out to the village below and quickly jumps the gate. "Run," he says, gripping Colin's hand once more.

"But you said—,"

_Run!_ he tries to holler out, but something stops his mouth from forming the word properly, as if the muscles in his face refuse to participate. Colin looks up at Link, unsure of what is happening as the older boy first drops to his knees and then falls face down. It is when Link is on the ground that Colin sees the reason to run and why he should be scared, however, his own terror renders him immobile and completely at the mercy of the giant being before him.

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**There will be more at some point (either this week or next)**

**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Chapter Two:**

"Let me go! Link! Tell it to let me go! We have to find papa! He'll be looking for me! He'll be looking for me and I won't be here! I have to stay! Let me go!"

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Link snuggles his head, his eyes shut tight at the horrid dream. He wishes not to wake yet but something tells him he needs to be alert. The blackness beckons, but something in waking life calls him back over and over again.

Where is he? He was with Colin and Rusl only moments before, now something tickles his nose. Grass? He attempts to lift his head again, but the sheer weight of it makes his neck ache and muscles scream for release.

His hands grip the ground below but are too weak to push him. His instincts tell him he needs to stand, but his body will not yield to his mind. He tries to push again but falls to the grass with heavy strained breaths. His ears throb with his blood pressure as his panic rises higher and higher.

"What did you do to him?" Colin demands. His voice is nasally and he sniffles every so often. Suddenly, Link realizes the nightmare is not quite over. He tries to open his eyes, but the brightness burns them. "Link," Colin whimpers. "Get up. Please… get up."

"If you do not quiet yourself, I will!" a muffled voice growls. Its accent is thick and it rolls on its R's and the vowels seem to linger longer than needed. "Understand?" it asks.

Link manages to roll onto his back, the fog of sleep still threatening to over take him. His hands rise and cup his forehead. His brain feels as though it has been knocking against his skull for hours and his limbs have turned into half melted lard as the muscles slowly gain back their strength.

The same voice calls out in a tongue Link does not know. There are then footsteps, then silence other than the sniffles of Colin. Crickets chirp out their songs and something cracks and hisses. Link opens his eyes once more and sees Colin across from him and a fire.

The young boy's blonde hair is a matted mess and his eyes puff out as if he has been crying for years on end. Colin watches carefully timid as a few figures pass the fire and enter the darkness. There is laughter from behind Link, but it is short lived and disappears in the buzzing chatter surrounding both he and Colin.

"Are you all right?" Link asks as he pushes himself up to a reclined position.

Colin's bottom lip quivers before he nods his answer. "Are you?" he asks, fighting back his cry. Shadows dance off his face and make him look hallow and empty—broken, even. Link opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off when a cloaked figure approaches him.

It says nothing as if it lifts him up to his feet and pushes him toward Colin. Link stumbles to the ground on his weak legs and the being crotches over him, pulling at his hands until they are out in the open, palms together.

Link watches as it begins to wrap leather around his hands, binding them from any sort of movement. "You're not going to hurt us… are you?" he asks after a moment of building his courage.

The being stares at the boy through the slit in its scarf. With the facial covering, it was difficult to read what its intentions were. Link's eyes dart to Colin and then back to the being. "Are you going to hurt us?" he reiterates.

"Don't bother speaking to her," a soft but masculine voice calls. Both Link and Colin turn their eyes to see a rather svelte man with a delicate nose standing off to the side. "She's a mute," he says as he steps over a log and towards the fire's light. "Barely understands the Gerudo tongue little lone your complex Hylian." The man takes three quick steps towards the boys and waves off the Gerudo. Suddenly, the man kneels down and examines Colin's hands making his black cloak puff out over the land below him. "Are they too tight, child?" he asks with an odd concern in his black eyes.

Colin, far too scared to make his answer heard, shakes his head with his eyes to the ground. "Good," the man says with a smile, "less discomfort for you on the road." His gaze turns to Link and gently lifts the boy's hands into his own. "And yourself, dear one?" he asks with a slight grin.

Link watches the man carefully. Something about his voice seems insincere—his smile almost mocking the boys—yet the way the man holds Link's hands with such care nearly contradicts his voice. Link brings his hands back. "No. They are fine."

The man nods his head with intrigue making his lips pucker. "Excellent." He takes a quick breath. "I am Lord Ghirahim Meikka; lord of no land, but given the title due to my trade." He pauses a moment, studying both the boys' faces as Link knits his eyebrows.

Colin's forehead wrinkles. The man is not like the men he has seen throughout his young life, yet he is not so different. The lord has the face of a knight from stories of old—or perhaps a prince. His jaw is smooth and straight and cheek bones high and shallow—but his eyes are the real wonder to his gentlemanly face. Blacker than coal but when the light from the fire hit them just right, they shine with blues and purples.

"W-what is your trade?" Link finally asks.

Lord Ghirahim Meikka releases a charming laugh filled with faux modesty. He looks to Link and turns his palms up and out, gesturing to a pile of shadows just before the tree line. Link watches them for a moment and suddenly he feels sick. They are people—not just people, but children. Lord Ghirahim smirks. "I deal in Hylian trades."

Colin pipes up, only now finding his voice. "What will happen to us?" It is a question that not even Link is brave enough to ask.

The man shakes his head and pokes the young boy's nose. "Don't you worry your little heart, child." He frowns slightly as an accent slips through his lips and stings the air when prior it has been undetectable. He takes a quick breath and, once again, he is all smiles at the boys. "You have the advantage, young one."

"How so?" Link asks making the lord's ebony eyes looks into his.

"As stated by Gerudo Law, I cannot sell or give any Hylian child under the age of ten to any Gerudo unless said Gerudo has the ability to keep the child fed and clothed." Lord Ghirahim looks back to Colin. "So what all those words mean, sweet child, is that you will be sold to someone who will care for you," he says as his hand reaches out and ruffles Colin's already matted hair.

"What about Link?" he asks, his blue eyes looking up at the man with electrifying intensity.

Lord Ghirahim arches an eyebrow and purses his lips with displeasure. His eyes lazily look to Link and then back to the little boy. "Child, your friend there is rather…" he searches for the word, "pretty. It won't take very long for him to sell. Children with his look tend to be sold at higher prices. He won't go long without a good meal and a nice bed, either. Gerudo like to keep their pretty slaves well kempt. Often times they save them for only… _special_ occasions." Lord Ghirahim turns to Link and gives a short laugh. "You probably will never know the feeling of a calloused thumb, sweet boy, and _that_ is truly a luxury."

Link shifts himself, a sudden discomfort making his body itch and shiver. Lord Ghirahim stands from the ground and stretches. His eyes look out to the other children and then back to the boys. "You two had better get some rest. We start our march when the sun rises." He begins to walk away but stops, turning his head part way back. "It will be a very long walk to the desert." He turns towards them again, one hand pushing back his silver hair. "If your shoes are too small, leave them behind; they will only slow you down." He shakes his head with a sly smile and narrowed eyes. "And you do not want to be the one slowing the group down. _Trust_ me."

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**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Chapter Three:**

As promised by Lord Ghirahim Meikka, when the first light of morning came upon them, the group was on the move. Link was the first to wake—though he never really slept that night. With the embers dulling and darkening, the gravity of their situation seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders like a rucksack far past its capacity and weight limit. Fear caused him to keep as tight of a grip on Colin as his bound hands would allow and anticipation kept his tired eyes from closing.

When the sky became bruised and the sun peeked ever so slightly over the horizon, Link woke Colin gingerly only to have the boy cry. The child thought it had all be a dream, a nightmare of sorts—he was prepared to wake to his mother cooing over him, not Link's dirty faced greet.

As the Gerudo began to stir, two approached Link and Colin and, without a word, led them to the group of children. With an iron chain, they locked the children's feet with only enough slack for walking—any step further than a quick stride would cause them to trip and tumble over themselves.

Colin had been placed before Link and after a young girl. The boy did not recognize any of the faces in the line, aside, of course, from Link. At the front of the line, the Lord of Slaves stood, his black cape now exchanged for a cream with crimson lining. It blew in the wind as he pointed in the direction he wished for the lot of them to travel in, and before the group began to move, he stepped into a caravan and smiled haughtily as he shut the curtained opening. Their bound feet then slap onward in the sooty remains of a village the boys once called home.

Day in and day out they marched in line; they marched even when their calves ached and stomachs knotted from hunger. They kept going even after Colin was too tired to keep crying. Eventually, the young child Link was accustomed to grew into slacked skin and worn eyes. Link, himself, had become only a shred of the blossoming young man he had once been. Where his muscles had been now wore thin and fleshy on his bones; his feet were bruised by the terrain and legs nearly numb from the constant movement.

During nightfall, that was when the greater evil began. The Gerudo women would take a handful of little boys and clip their chains. As the boys stood crying and screaming, the Gerudo would call out for them to run, making gestures at the horizon. "Free," being called out over and over, one of the few words they unanimously knew.

The boy's would then race, sometimes up and down hills, other times across flat fields, but all would charge off with such energy that one would not believe they spent the day marching. However, the envy Link and Colin first felt when they witnessed the occurrence was short lived.

With the young boys only bird sized specks across the terrain, the Gerudo would raise their bows and ready their arrows. The children still in line would start screaming, calling out warnings to the boys, but the young boys already knew what would happen, for they had seen other boys do the same.

Each red haired demon then released in unison. They jumped and smiled when their targets were hit, some laughed as the ones who still breathed attempted to crawl. The Gerudo would watch for a moment, enjoying the show and then draw another arrow and finish their victim.

When this happened the first time, Link covered Colin's eyes. The times after, Colin pulled away and watched emotionless while Link took comfort in the fact that they were still chained and bound.

"They do this every three nights," Lord Ghirahim says as he approaches the chained boys, though the words are unneeded for they had found out the pattern long ago. He lowers himself to the grass and takes a deep breath with a delayed exhale. "It used to be every night until I finally told them that they were killing off our profits. Now they only take little boys, usually the small… the weak… really any who they feel will not make the journey."

Link's tired eyes watch as a new boy is cut from the chain. He screams and cries knowing full well what will become of him. Link turns his head, his heart weeping but emotions too drained to flood his bloodshot eyes once more. He looks to Colin and only feels more disappointment overcome him. The child had not said a word in weeks.

"Why are you doing this?" Link finally asks with a defeated shrug the shadow from a nearby fire enhancing his gaunt features.

"For rupee," Ghirahim says bluntly.

Link shakes his head. The words slowly come to him as he speaks. "Why are you talking to me? Do you wish to only further my sorrow?"

The Lord of Slaves gives the young man a long blink. His back straightens as he pushes his silver hair out of his eyes. Stuck in thought, Ghirahim—with his proud eyes—looks to the ground as if ashamed. "The ways of the world are strange, sweet child. Do you know the ways of the world?"

Link furrows his brow, be it his immense hunger for the lack of his train of thought, he does not know how to answer—or, more importantly, what the lord would like him to say. Over the weeks, the dainty man would find time every evening to step aside from his lordly doings to strike up the dying conversation of both the boys.

"I take your silence as a no." The man presses his lips together and watches intently as a new boy is cut from the chain links. "You and I—," he smirks, "—we're not so different." His black eyes then watch Link, waiting for the young man to urge him on—even in the smallest way. Link's brow raises and lips part slightly though not a noise comes through his chapped lips. Lord Ghirahim flashes his teeth with a laugh. It is enough for him to continue. "I was brought to the Gerudo the same as you." His eyes scan the camp. "A grown man, albeit," he corrects. "I was lost; no familiarity to the lands I wondered. A vagabond was I.

"I was searching for a purpose, a meaning—something that would make my life worth living, for up until the moment I was taken by these women, I had no idea how important my life was to me." He shakes his head, faux shame narrowing his eyes. "They brought me salvation," he admits, perhaps for the first time, with honesty. Link watches the man for a moment, unsure whether he should listen further. Lord Ghirahim Meikka sighs. "They took me to their king and that was when I realized _what_ my purpose was.

"You see, the time before my capture, before I realized how much of the world I took for granted, I wanted to _be_ something. His Majesty gave me what I craved. He promised me a life of luxury so long as I did as he asked, and there was my purpose; to serve." Ghirahim smirks with arrogance though shrugs with a pinch of modesty. "And I did as he asked, quite remarkably—if I may say so," he adds.

Link rubs his writes, the leather binding them has cut deep into his wrists and infection oozes from the wounds. "How much longer will it take before we are in the desert?" he asks, trying to forget how the lord believed the two of them to be similar.

"Three more good days of travel," Lord Ghirahim says as he stretches his arms. "And then we sell off the homely children in the market and then off to the palace with you and a few others."

Link turns his eyes to Colin. He sleeps soundly, though every few minutes he stirs and whimpers. "What about him?"

Lord Ghirahim sighs. "This is where there seems to be an issue." Link's sapphires go back to the man. "I was given strict orders to bring all boys with blue eyes and blonde hair back to the palace. His Majesty was _very_ specific." He nods with a long blink. The young man furrows his brow and shakes his head. "Ah, so young, so innocent. Have you not heard the prophecy yet?" Ghirahim chuckles softly to himself.

Link shakes his head, his cheeks now pinching up and eyes narrowing. Ghirahim readjusts himself and smiles. "I fear I will bore you if I tell you it in whole, so here it is—only the most important bits.

"His Majesty's little princess told us of quite a terrible thing. A young boy with sky blue eyes and pale yellow hair would bring an end to our King's rule. Perish the thought," Lord Ghirahim says. "When he asked his sweet little princess what brought the idea upon her, she said it was all in a dream that the goddesses of old gave her." He shakes his head. "Perish the thought!" he curses again. "As much as I tried to convince his Majesty that the goddesses were a thing of the past, he emphasized that if I come back to the city without a boy with similar looks, I would expire."

The Lord of Slaves eyes then look out to the darkness, following something moving. "I fear that one there wishes for my corpse," he says, pointing a long finger out to the black. Link watches for a moment, waiting to see what the man speaks of and, suddenly, something moves in the darkness. It creeps closer and closer to them and Link feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

As the fire's light hits the figure, the face of a woman is revealed; intense golden eyes, cardinal red hair, and high cheek bones with a scar running down her face starting from just below the right eye extending to the base of her neck. "I would no sooner see you dead than one of my sisters," she says.

"That is what concerns me, Denda," he says as the woman lowers her head to the name. She then raises her head, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as she watching the man. "I fear you would see all dead if you had it your way," he announces with a smile meant to harm.

Denda returns his smile with a certain grace though, if looks could kill, the Lord of Slaves would surely be destroyed. "I only wish to right the wrongs of others, Lord Ghirahim." She then turns her back to them, her head slightly turned over as her eyes look in Link's direction through their corners. "It would do you a world of good to stop listening to his words."

"And it would do _you_ a world of good to have you tongue snatched from that pretty little mouth of yours," Ghirahim growls. "Must I retrieve the iron rods?" He narrows his eyes. "It would be a pity to mark your face again…"

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**I would like to apologize for the rather long chapter and also for the lack of action happening in it.**

**Sorry.**

**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Chapter Four:**

Colin watches as portion of the children pile onto a platform. They're herded like sheep and no matter how much they cry and beg to be spared, their pleas fall into deaf ears. The small boy tightens his grip on Link's hand as one of the Gerudo passes them.

"It's all right, Colin," Link says as his eyes follow the woman. "Everything will be fine. Just stay with me," he says in a voice trembling traces of his own fear.

"As long as we're together, nothing bad will happen—right Link?" the boy asks, fighting back the inevitable cry in the back of his throat. Since entering the DesertCity, Colin seemed to have found his voice again—at first is was raw and quiet, but eventually it came back to its full potential. Link nods his head once.

"Hold tight," he says as their group begins to be herded onto the platform with the rest. Colin locks his arm around Link's and, together, they walk up the three wood steps. Colin takes a deep breath as he gets a better look at the crowd surrounding them.

It does not take long for him to feel their orbs watching; the cold yellow irises staring, waiting for one of the children to show some kind of weakness—some kind of fault—before they pounce on the chance of a discount.

"Do not look at them," Link says over the cries and hollers. Colin's eyes quickly fall to the floor of the platform. "I think…" Link shakes his head; to finish the sentence was far too horrible a statement, it was far too soon for their journey to end.

"What?" Colin asks, tugging at the young man's arm.

Link furrows his brow and sucks teeth. "I think this is where we are to be sold." Colin's eyes shoot back out to the crowd. He had only ever heard stories of such things—little boys and girls taken from their home lands and sent to the desert at the mercy of an unforgiving Gerudo master. He shivers; now he would know the stories firsthand.

Out of all the faces in the crowd, not one is male. Even though both the boys knew the Gerudo were a strictly all female race, it seemed odd with the absence of man aside, of course, from Lord Ghirahim Meikka.

The sick and homely children would be sold first and to the lesser women at that, the Lord of Slaves had made it more than clear to the boys. As for the stronger, prettier ones, they would be reserved for the high rollers.

Colin was not ugly, but nor was he particularly pretty. Yes, he still carried his baby face and wide eyes, but his nose was nearing too small for his face and his lips a touch too thin. His freshly unbounded hands absentmindedly rise to his mouth. His teeth were also terribly crooked.

A body pushes through the two and separates Colin and Link for but a moment. As soon as the young boy felt the slip of skin, his heart rate rose and eyes began to water in a panicked mess. He pushes through the other children, his eyes searching for the one familiar face in a sea of unknown.

"Link," he calls out on the brink of tears. His eyes wildly scan through the skeletal children. Their clothes hang on them like a flag in dead wind, their arms are black and blue from the bite of a crop due to slowing the group, and their eyes are hollow, empty jewels inside the craniums of despair.

Colin holds himself, his shoulders rising and falling to each of his struggled breaths. Link is gone and he is alone. A hand reaches out and grips at his shoulder making him scream out in shock. "Let go of me!" he hollers but the hand does not listen and merely leads him closer to the ledge of the platform.

"Low born, bright eyes and crooked teeth," the hand hollers out as it pushes him into the view of the Gerudo. Colin looks back and sees a woman standing, her arms crossed and scarf lowered around her neck. "Fifty rupees is what the lord wishes for," she calls out, "any takers?"

There is silence and Colin feels his ear burn bright with the same colour of the Gerudo's hair. As the silence continues, his head begins to spin. What happens to the children they do not sell? Tears well in his eyes as he ponders this thought; it grows into something deep and terrifying until finally, someone shouts out, "Twenty rupees and I want a new stallion at that!"

The group of women burst out with laughter including the one pitching the auction. "Dear sister, it would do our guest a world of kindness if we continued in out own tongue. Lest he continue to fight off the tears wringing in his eyes," she says as she steps forward gripping Colin's shoulder once more.

The boy looks up at her, his eyes sparkling with tears as she continues the auction with words of an unfamiliar dialect. Colin's hand rises to the Gerudo's, a search for comfort making him do so. Before his hand touches her skin, the woman tosses the boy's hand away and stares down at him with such hate and disgust, he fears he may melt.

Suddenly, a hand rises and calls out in perfect Hylian, "Two hundred rupees." The crowd falls silent and searches out the high offering patron.

A wicked smile makes the Gerudo's lips curve as she spots the woman in little time. "Impa," she calls out. "Of all the places I'd think to see you, the market was by far the last."

The woman the Gerudo calls to pulls down her scarf, revealing soft silver hair and thick lips that seem to pucker with no effort. "What brings you down here? Is the little princess wishing for her nanny to bring her a friend?" the Gerudo asks before a laugh causing the others to join.

"Two hundred and I'll add another fifty if you make this trade off quick," Impa calls, her voice strong and unwilling to shake under the Gerudo's stare.

"Well now, we have to be fair, dear Sheikah," the Gerudo says with a smile. "Perhaps a sister is willing to offer higher." A new voice calls out and the Gerudo chuckles softly. "She offered three; do you have the rupee to offer more?" she asks patronizingly.

Impa takes a deep breath. The sun shines brightly on the ancient sands as she thumbs the tattoo that stretches down her face. "Three fifty," she finally says. The group of women all gasp.

"Three fifty it is then," the Gerudo calls back and claps her hands thrice. Before Colin can argue back, a new Gerudo has him by the shoulders and is leading him off the platform. "Would you like the Hylian shackled or unbound?" There is silence for a moment, the silver haired woman annoyed with the question. "I should have known. People hailing from the Hylian fields do not believe in chains, isn't that right, Sheikah?" Again, silence. "Instead, they tattoo their slaves and tell them they are nannies to royalty. My sisters and I are not so different from the Hylian, dear Sheikah. You best lower your nose and stop pretending you are so high and mighty. The only reason you still stand is due to His Majesty wrapped around the little princess' finger."

As Colin stands to the side, other children stand with him; some older, few younger, but all just as scared and confused as he. Slowly, one by one, each child is taken by a Gerudo; some are kinder than others while the majority seems to take pleasure in their child's fear and pain. One girl, a year or so older than Colin, falls to the sand as her new master pushes her off. When she attempts to stand back to her feet, the Gerudo pushes her back down telling her to crawl like the animal she is. Colin could not watch more, his eyes shut closed before he could see the woman slap the girl across the face. Horrid beings were they.

"You there—," Colin looks up to see the same silver haired woman from before, "—follow me." She turns her back and begins to walk away. Without further urge, Colin nearly races to her side, hoping the woman would bring him more kindness than those of the ruddier complexion.

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When Link felt Colin's arm slip from his, he knew it would be no easy task to find the boy again. In a sense, he gave up when he looked down at the small faces of crying children surrounding him. He could not save them all, so what difference would it make to save only one. When the bony arm dropped from his, it was as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. However heavy it had been, guilt grew deep in his belly when he realized this and seemed to be tenfold the weight he had carried before.

As if to redeem his mind, he pushed through the children about to call out the boy's name, but something caught him off guard. A sack flew over his head and darkness engulfed him. For the first time throughout his journey, Link screamed. He screamed like a small child watching a mouse being plucked from the earth by a hawk. With the scream came tears.

The little strength he had, he fought back with every ounce of it. His arms reached for whatever was around him to grab and with all his might he kicked his legs out trying his best to stop whatever force dragged him away. With a few more drags and a hard push, the sack is removed from his head and he looses balance.

Link collapses to the sandy ground, a puff of dust enveloping around him. His eyes wildly look about him; he is no longer on the platform but in an alley of sorts. As the dust and stirred sand settles on the narrow road, there she stands; tall and proud with her head scarf hanging around her neck like a hood.

"What are you doing?" he recoils at his own growl, the volume of his voice startling him.

Denda pushes back a lock of red hair and furrows her brow. "Protecting you—,"

"That little boy I was with—where is he?" The woman looks down at him, cocking her head to the side. "I have to find him!" he hollers, attempting to push himself up from the road. Before he can rise, Denda's foot has propped itself on his chest, her weight making him fall back down.

"Your friend will be fine," she says. Her head snaps back as a group of Gerudo guards march pass the alley's opening. As they pass, she turns her face back to Link. "You, however, will not be." She straightens her back and relaxes her shoulders. "Unless you come with me," Denda adds as she lightens the pressure of her foot on the young man's chest.

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**My apologies if there are any misspellings and/or grammar/punctuation errors. It's been a very long night.**

**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Chapter Five:**

Colin races through the streets following the silver haired woman as she marches through the crowd. He struggles to dip and dive between the women as they go through with their daily lives. Some seem to come out of nowhere making the small boy startle and gasp whilst attempting to keep up with the woman.

"I'm only going to tell you this once, boy." The silver haired woman abruptly turns around making him nearly bump into her. "Keep as close to me as possible. The women of these parts will not think twice as to snatching you." She shakes her head as she turns back. "Filthy scoundrels will do anything to be noticed by their king…"

Colin furrows his brow but heeds her warning and keeps on her heals. They make their way past what seems to be hundreds of stone buildings, all connecting to one another with no real answer as to what they are. Cutouts of the walls act as windows, glass is nonexistent while maroon curtains contain what is inside. In fact, to Colin's surprise, the buildings do not even have doors, just the same maroon curtains hanging across keeping his eyes from the inside.

After what seems like miles walking through the desert city, they approach a set of steps, some are cracked, others seem like the weight of even a small child would crumble it. Impa does not stop, with her back straight and shoulders back, she marches up them with Colin at her heals, the stairs, to Colin's shock, accepting their weight.

With the amount of walking the poor child has already endured, the steps act like the final barrier—testing his physical limitations. His legs ache, yes, but now the ache seems to reside mostly in his knees with each stair he pushes up. His heart pounds in his chest and ears vibrate with his pulse as his joints threaten to bend backwards and knees fight not to buckle. Every three or four steps, his head becomes light and vision seems to tunnel. Though he wishes to stop, the threat of being stolen from his new master terrifies him and forces him to keep up.

"State your name and business," a woman with a thick accent and spear at hand barks. Another dressed in the same purple billowing pants and matching crop top turns her eyes to Impa and Colin.

"You know who I am," Impa says with a tired sigh.

"State your name and business," the other guard echoes, her accent thicker than the first.

Impa rolls her eyes. "Impa of the Shiekah, warden of the princess," she says, though with the titles, the pride that she may have felt before is all but there. "I am here returning to my ward."

The guards eye her up and then turn their stare to Colin making him shrink behind Impa. "And the slave?" the first asks, jutting her chin his way.

"He is of no concern to you," Impa says stiffly.

The second furrows her brow. "Any and all people stepping foot into the palace must state their business regardless of class or creed."

"He is here in the princess's service. His—" Impa scowls at the word, "—Majesty granted her a slave."

"Very well," the second says with a nod. "Be off."

Colin's heart pounds like a hammer on a sheet; each beat throbbing his insides and upsetting his empty belly. As they pass the guards and enter the large twin doors before them, Colin reaches out to Impa as he falls to his knees. Not looking for sympathy, his eyes stay on the cool marble floor below him, one hand holding on Impa's belt while the other holds him up.

The woman turns to him, quickly falling to her own knees to aid him. "The trip is difficult, I know," she nearly whispers, sadness pungent in her voice. "Food is scarce while traveling and many die. Just remember you made it. You were strong enough to do it. Straighten your back and prove to me you are strong enough to continue, boy." Her hand rises to his chin, bringing his face up to look back at hers. "If not for me, do it for your people. Do it for the sake of Hyrule, boy."

Colin, with the new encouragement, nods once. He attempts to push himself up, his wobbly legs shaking under his weight and unnaturally extended belly threatening to push him off balance. As he rises, Impa comes with him, her hands holding his waist as he struggles to look around the large foyer. Distraught, he struggles to breathe as his vision fades. He shakes his head and whispers, "Where's Link?" before collapsing into Impa's arms.

* * *

With a veil covering his hair and face, Link follows Denda. Having told him if he were recognized as one of the slaves brought in by Lord Ghirahim the others would probably kill him for escaping, Denda thought it best to disguise him, and Link agreed upon the mentioning of death.

As they enter a small tent just outside of the desert city, Denda closes the flap quickly, her eyes wildly looking about making sure none have taken notice. Link moves his hand up to the top of his head, ready to remove the veil.

"You remove that and the illusion is gone." She approaches him and pushes back his hand. "There are two ways of going about this," she says. "One, you leave and never come back. You forget what you saw here and forget the people, the slaves, the injustice—everything." Her intense eyes watch as his sapphires look back.

"Or what?" he asks.

"Or," she says, thought making her brow furrow and eyes narrow, "you stay." Link's chin falls back making the veil he wears cascade down his nose like a dress. "You stay and you fight," she says. "Ghirahim told you of the prophecy—as much as the king says he does not believe it, he knows it to be true. Everyone does." Her head shakes as she turns away from Link. "A boy with blue eyes and fair hair." She smiles. "All he needs is the green garb to resemble the legends of old." Denda takes a breath. "You could kill him," she adds making Link recoil.

After a moment of silence, Link finally speaks. "Why don't you?" he asks. Denda arches a brow. "Why don't you kill him—he is _your_ king after all. If you wish for his death then what better than to have it done by the hand of his own people?"

Denda releases a patronizing laugh. "Do you really believe I have not already tried?" Her stare sends a shiver up his spine. "If it were so easy, I would never have asked a _male_ to do it."

Link watches the woman curiously as she turns away from him. "If I hadn't attempted to assassinate him, my face would not be scarred so. Perhaps I would still be welcomed amongst my sisters as well." She turns back to him. "The king must die, and, by order of his little princess, he must die at the hand of the legendary hero."

Link swallows hard, his eyes narrowing as he looks back at her. "You think I am that?" His brow furrows. "A hero?" He shakes his head, anger burning in his gut fiercer than his hunger. "You think I am powerful enough to kill? Then why, pray tell, did I not have the strength to fight back your fellow Gerudo when they attacked my home? Why was I not strong enough to save my friends?" His nostrils flare as his anger boils the tears building in his eyes. "Why was I not able to save those boys your people shot down so villainously?" Link's jaw juts forward as he fights back a cry. "The legendary hero is strong—and if I am he—where is mine?" he asks as he lowers his head.

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**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


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